Fighting Fair
by Chaoslace
Summary: An FE 7 story centered around the friendship between Matthew and Guy. Starts just after chapter 16, and there are major spoilers for chapter 18. Completed!
1. Wounded

Fighting Fair

By: Chaoslace

------

Chapter 1: Wounded

------

"Guy!"

The swordsman grunted and drew his blade out of his most recent victim, a burly bandit that feebly crawled a few inches forward before falling still. The fight had been a lot closer than Guy would have liked, and his ragged breathing left puffs of steam in the chilled morning air. It had been barely dawn when Kent sounded the alarm, and by the time their band had eradicated the unfortunate thieves, the sun had not yet burned the cool night from the air.

"Guy!" The voice again, louder this time. He turned to look and then stumbled back a step. His sword felt remarkably heavy in his hands and he drove the point into the ground, leaning on it for balance.

"Gah," he said under his breath, wincing slightly. He closed his eyes and gripped the hilt of the propped-up sword. A thin trickle of blood dripped from his wrist onto the leather taping, where it ran down to the edge of the guard and fell to the frosted ground. "That was," he said, before dropping to one knee. He panted, trying to put off awareness of the deep gash in his shoulder for as long as he could manage. His vision had become slightly hazy and a familiar face wavered at the edge of it. 

"Guy, are you - oh God." 

It was Lyn. He struggled to get up, not wanting to appear weak in front of one of the commanders, but she only pushed him back to the ground. "Lie down," she ordered, ripping his sword from the ground in a swift motion. "SAIN!" she yelled, waving the sword over her head. "Guy's down! Get a healer over here! NOW!" She let the blade clatter to the ground and knelt beside him. He tried to read her face as she used a dagger to strip off his sleeve, but her expression was blank and focused. 

She worked quickly and bound the wound with what was left of his shirt, taking time to lay his arm out straight and make sure there were no broken bones. "Thank goodness," she said under her breath when a pounding deep in the ground heralded the knight's approach. 

He closed his eyes and heard Lucius chanting softly under his breath. Sain and Lyn were talking several feet away, but he could now only barely hear them at the edge of his perception. A slightly golden haze crept up on the edges of his vision and he became hyperaware of everything around him. Two ants tickled the ends of his fingers and a hawk sailed across the sun high above him. The grass and weeds groaned under the weight of his body, and beneath him he was sure that he could feel the very roots of a nearby maple tree creeping through the earth. His breathing slowed and shallowed as awareness bled away from his body.

"How is he?" asked Lyn, peering down at what appeared to be a very peacefully sleeping Guy. Lucius, who had been kneeling over him, stood up to face her. 

"The spell is working now," said the fair bishop, smoothing down his robes. "His wound is very deep. It's good that you bound it. Healing magic can do many things, but it can't close a wound like that any more than it can reattach a severed hand." He looked down at Guy. "He will be much better soon, but ah-" the look on Lyndis's face stopped him. "Yes, Milady?"

She crossed her arms and looked away in irritation. "Thank you, Lucius," she said. "Let us hope that we never have to go through this again."

"Ah," he said gently. "Yes, Milady. I'll be returning to the others now." He bowed and started back towards the camp.

Sain, who had been tending to his horse, took the reins and trotted after Lucius. "Hey Luc," he said. The bishop stopped and waited for him to catch up. They walked together and Lucius petted the horse's side as he related the situation to Sain.

"So he's going to be okay?" 

Lucius nodded. "Yes, he'll be fine," he said, as they approached the camp. Cleanup from the morning's battle seemed to be over with, and some had drifted to the edge of the field to watch for news of Guy. They read the faces of the bishop and the knight and turned back to their business, some with expressions of relief and others with annoyance. "However, I don't think I'd want to be in his shoes when he wakes up," he added, nodding to Raven and Priscilla as he passed them.

Sain stopped and turned towards him. "Why not? Will he be in a lot of pain?"

Lucius laughed, a soft understated noise surrounded by the buzz of the mercenary camp. "Not really," he said, and looked over the field to the distant figure of Lyndis, who was busy cleaning Guy's sword with a leather rag. "But I don't believe the Lady Commander is terribly pleased with the risks he's been taking lately."

"Ahhh," Sain nodded, then started to laugh himself. "You're right, of course." They reached the other knights and he handed the reins to Marcus, who was tending to the horses. "I can't imagine a worse fate than to be on Lady Lyndis's bad side." Now it was Marcus's turn to laugh. Sain turned his head sharply and gave him a puzzled look. "What?" Lucius, chuckling under his breath, bowed and started back towards his group. "What's funny? Hey Luc, wait up! Luc!"

The sun rose above them, and it turned out that it was going to be a pretty nice day.

* * *

When Guy awoke, he found that they had moved to a nearby farming village. He appreciated the change, for the bed was quite comfortable, and he hardly noticed the pain in his shoulder until he stretched and started to stand. He whimpered and fell heavily back onto the cot. "Ohh," he murmured under his breath, touching the still-mending wound gingerly with the tips of his fingers. "I forgot about that."

"Yeah?" A voice from across the room startled him. He raised his hand against the light streaming in through a small window and squinted into the shadows beyond. "Well, don't." The visitor grinned and stepped forward. Guy recognized him immediately.

"Matthew," he said, grimacing. He groaned and flopped back to rest against a propped-up pillow. "Great. Just what I need." He crossed his arms and set his jaw sullenly.

"Hey, I consider your life something of an investment," the young thief said, shrugging his shoulders as he crossed the small room. "I'm surprised that you don't seem to think of it in the same way."

"Oh, you're clever! Absolutely hilarious, you know?"

Matthew ignored him and sat on the edge of the bed. "So how are ya feeling? Your sword arm okay?"

Guy frowned and stretched out his right arm slowly. The muscles in his shoulder still felt stiff and knotted, and he opened and closed his fist sluggishly. "Just a scratch. I'll be fine in a few days." Matthew gave him a look. He'd seen it before. He sighed and let his arm drop. "Alright, alright," he said, running a hand through his hair, which was tangled and knotted. "You don't need to make that face. I know I messed up. I thought I could take them!"

"You could have taken them," said Matthew, polishing a petite silver dagger with a handful of fabric from his cloak. "Had they not brought friends." He held up the blade and checked his reflection in the smooth surface. "Why didn't you run away? You had time to get to the others."

Guy watched his friend's eyes reflected on the silver dagger. Bits of dust sailed across the puddle of sunlight that was creeping across the room. "Running away isn't my style," he said after a long moment. "I'm not like you, you know?"

Light flashed on the dagger's edge and one of Matthew's eyebrows arched in amusement. He dropped the knife back down to his lap and stuck in into a concealed wrist holder with a diminuitive _shick__. _"Not like me," he said, his shoulders shaking a little in silent laughter. "No, I guess you're not." He stood and stretched languidly, pacing around the small room. "What was your kill count in the last battle, Guy?"

The swordsman spent a minute counting on his fingers. "I think I got four - no, wait, five. Before I went down." A proud tone edged its way into his voice.

"Oh, really?' Matthew turned, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "That's not too bad."

Guy crossed his arms and gave him a look. "Are you making fun of me?"

Matthew chuckled. "Not at all."

"What was your kill count, then?"

The thief didn't miss a beat. "Seven."

Guy paled. "Sev- seven? You can't be serious! I killed myself out there today, and you were nowhere to be seen! How in the world did you get more kills than me?"

Matthew grinned. "Battles are fought in many ways, Guy. I consider mine to be somewhat more subtle than yours. But," he brought his right arm up sharply, his silver dagger flashing as he caught it in his hand. "No less effective." He saw the look on Guy's face and started to chuckle. "Maybe you are right." He strode towards the door. "You're not like me." He waved over his shoulder, and before Guy could say anything, he was gone. 

"Hey-" Guy started to call after him, then sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "Ah, forget it," he said to the empty room. "There's no point."

There was a moment of silence, then a faint high whine that caused him to turn his head. A silver streak whizzed through the air and ended with a _thunk_ as Matthew's silver dagger embedded itself in the wall across from the doorway. 

"There is always a point, my friend!" the thief called out, and Guy shook his head, listening to Matthew's laughter disappear down the hallway.


	2. Life's Lessons

Fighting Fair

By: Chaoslace

-----

Chapter 2: Life's Lessons

-----

The next day, Guy woke up early. The room was still dark as he stood and padded lightly to the window. He opened the shutters and took a deep breath, rubbing his face with both hands. The inn seemed to be on the outskirts of a small farming community, and outside of his room a grassy lea stretched towards the village proper. He stood by the window for a while and watched the sun rise over the pretty pastoral scene.

"I could live in a place like this," he said to himself, smiling. A few rotations of his arm confirmed that his wound was healing nicely, so he tied his hair back and started into a pattern of calisthenics. He closed his eyes and focused on feeling the day's life flow into his limbs as he moved through the positions of a traditional Sacaen meditation. His mind drifted, the motions so second nature to his body that he hardly needed to think of them.

_First form. Humility._ It had been a few months since Guy had joined up with the young nobles and their entourage. At first he had had his work cut out for him just remembering everyone's names. It was so much harder than he thought it would be when he first left the Kutolah. He drew in a deep breath and tried to relax the tension in his shoulders. _Quiet_, he told himself. _You're well fed, aren't you? Your wounds are tended, aren't they? Stop complaining._

_Second form. Effort._ The cool morning air and the sounds of the waking world outside of the window stirred his mind, brought back old memories of the plains. He found himself thinking of his childhood there, of his friends and of the girls in his tribe. He'd been proud when his father went away to protect a fringe settlement from a bullying noble landlord. And he'd been proud when they told him his father wasn't coming back. It meant that he'd died doing what he was supposed to do. He smiled wryly, sweat beading on his forehead from the steadily more strenous exercises. _I remember I didn't get why Mother was so sad,_ he thought. _I didn't really get it until I was older. Of course, by then I'd forgotten most everything about him. Well, I remember that he was strong._

_Third form. Strength._ Guy slid easily into the next series of movements, feeling confidence come with them. They had always been his best when he had first learned them in school. Something about the third form reminded him of the sword dance, and it was easy for him to envision the familiar, comfortable steel edge in his hand while he performed it. His bare feet made small sounds on the woven straw flooring of the room as he stepped lightly back and forth. His arm was starting to ache, but he dutifully ignored it against what might have been a more patient man's better judgment.

_Fourth form. Trial._ The sun was coming full force through the window now, shining pinkly through his closed eyelids. Distant voices tickled the edge of his hearing and he knew that the others were probably waking. He quickened the pace, determined to get through all of the forms before they called for him. He was panting softly now. _What am I doing here?_ The thought nagged at the back of his mind. _These are not my people._ A familiar tingle warmed the backs of his eyes. _Gah, what a time to get homesick,_ he thought, biting back tears.

_Fifth form. Sorrow._ A light breeze ruffled his hair, and far off a pair of larks called to each other over the sky. He tried to keep his mind empty as he passed through the slow, controlled motions of the Sorrow form, but visions of his homeland keep seeping into his head. "I miss it," he whispered very softly.

"I miss it too."

_Sixth form. Vision._ His eyes popped open. Next to him, matching him precisely in grace and figure as he performed the meditation, was Lyn of the Lorca. He fought to keep from missing a beat as she lead him through the difficult and exulting second-to-last form. "Lyn," he said, astonished that she had come in without his awareness, and that she seemed to have such an excellent grasp of the exercises. He had always prided himself on simply being able to perform them all, and for that he was considered strong among his people. But even he felt the strain by the sixth form, and here she was, hardly breaking a sweat. Her calm and efficiency of movement inspired a new respect for her in him. "You really are the daughter of a chieftain," he said, not a hint of questioning in his voice. 

"I do this often," she said softly, extending her arms towards the sky, her movements in perfect unison with Guy's. "I need to." They spun once on the lead foot and clapped, the sound surprisingly loud in the still air. "You're not bad yourself." They spun again, this time on the back foot, and reversed the stance to face away from the window. 

"I'm surprised you know it," he said as they stomped twice and clapped again. "I thought it was only taught to myrmidons."

"I studied as a myrmidon, a long time ago," she said, and then said no more about it.

_Final form. Victory._ Guy felt the stress of the exercise drip away from him as they started the calming final form. "This is the best part," he said, and she smiled at him. 

"It's not over yet," she responded, and they clasped their hands behind their backs. Together they bowed low from the waist until their foreheads touched the soft, dusty flooring. They held this position for a long time, each giving thanks for the strength to finish the forms and the gifts of the Sacaen heritage. It was Lyn that spoke first to begin the closing ritual.

"This is the day," she started.

"I will break my own back," Guy continued.

"I will find my own way."

"I will beat back the storm."

"At the end of the day..."

"...I will not be left wanting."

Slowly, very slowly, they brought themselves back up to a standing position and turned to face one another. They put their hands palm to palm and spoke the last lines together. 

"And tomorrow, I will do it all over again."

Silence fell over the room and they let their arms fall back to their sides. Guy stood where he was, a mess of dust and sweat, panting from the exertion of the exercise. Lyn gave a happy sigh and started to busy about the room, packing up his bag and tossing his spare tunic to him. "I didn't get a chance to look for a new one for you," she said. "Will that one be okay for a while? I'm sure Merlinus could find something that would fit you."

He looked dumbly at her, then down at the tunic. He shook his head. "Uh, yeah, this will be fine. Thanks, Lyn- I mean, Lady Lyndis," he said, correcting himself carefully.

She smiled. "It's alright if you call me Lyn. I'm not really one for titles away," she looked down at the bag in her hands. "Is this all you brought?"

"Oh, um, there's my sword..."

She looked around. "Where is it? I didn't see it before."

"Ah-" he stuttered, then flushed a dark red. "I, uh-" he slipped his tunic on and stepped forward to the bed. He tossed the mound of pillows aside to reveal his leather scabbard and belt. He picked them up sheepishly and fixed them around his waist. Lyn started to laugh.

"You can't be serious," she said, stifling her laughter behind one hand.

"Look, if you'd been ambushed by a thief with a sick sense of humor in the middle of the night, you would sleep with your sword under your pillow too," he protested.

She chuckled and gave him a light pat on the arm. "Who says I don't?" she said with a wink. He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head and picked up his bag. "What?" she asked as they left the room and made their way down the hall.

"It's nothing," he said. "But I think maybe I should give up on being surprised by you, Lyn." She gave him a look and he grinned back at her. "Hey, I never got to ask you why you came to visit me."

"Oh," she laughed a little nervously. "Actually, I was going to fire you."

He stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"No no, please, I've changed my mind," she said quickly. "Let me explain." She pulled him aside as a young girl with a tray of breakfast meats bustled past them. "After what happened yesterday... I've been worried about you, Guy. We all have. Didn't you know that?" He shook his head numbly.

She sighed. "You have friends here," she continued. "People that care about you. But you always go out alone, and it's been getting you hurt. I'm starting to be afraid that it's going to get you killed."

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "I can take care of myself," he started to say. 

"Don't say that," she interrupted, her tone serious now. "No one can take care of themselves all of the time. Not you, not me, not Lord Eliwood, not anybody in this army." She crossed her arms. "Part of being a member of this group is, well, being a member of this group."

He looked at her for a moment, then hung his head. "I'm sorry, Lyn," he said, sorrow showing in his voice. "I didn't realize, that, you know..."

Lyndis nodded. "I know," she said, and smiled warmly. "That's why I decided not to fire you when I came in and saw you doing the meditation rite." Her eyes flicked down. "I was like you too, at first. And I guess I probably still am, in many ways." She shrugged. "It's easy to feel like you're alone, even amidst all these people. Because they're not-"

"-my people," he finished. She looked at him evenly and they stood in silence for a few moments, each lost in memories of their homeland. "Hey Lyn," he said hopefully, breaking the silence. "We could go back, ya know? Couldn't we go back?"

She smiled then. "But I don't want to, Guy. These are my people now. They've become like family to me." She put a hand on his shoulder. "They can be that way to you too, if you let them."

Guy straightened his shoulders, then took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay," he said resolutely. "I'll try. That is, if you're sure I'm not fired?"

Lyn laughed. "Yes, I'm sure. You get a second chance. But no more running off on your own! I want you to be more careful in the future, okay?"

He grinned. "I swear I will. Now, if we're done here, I think I should get some breakfast before we go!" He edged by her and trotted away down the hall. "Man, I'm starving!"

The Lady Lyndis watched him go, then turned back towards the rooms, shaking her head and chuckling under her breath. 

"That kid," she said to herself, and set about preparing for the day's journey. 

* * *

"Hey, Guy!"

The swordsman didn't look up from his breakfast. "This had better be good, Matthew," he said, around a mouthful of bread.

Matthew pulled up a chair and sat down heavily, rattling the silverware that Guy was dutifully neglecting to use. "Hey, careful with that. You might choke or something." He produced an apple from somewhere and took a noisy bite out of it.

Guy looked at the fruit enviously. "I didn't know they had apples here," he said.

"Well, they technically don't." He grinned. "So I heard that the Lady Commander almost fired you this morning."

Guy nearly spit out a large bite of lambsmeat. He sputtered, then forced himself to finish chewing and swallow. "How do you know that?" he said finally. "What do you know about it?"

"Hey, relax," Matthew laughed and handed him a cup of water, which he gulped appreciatively. "By 'I heard' I mean 'I heard while hiding in a nearby shadowy doorway.' Don't forget who we're talking about here."

Guy rolled his eyes. "I should have expected as much." He finished cleaning his plate and pushed it forward. "You seem like you're in good spirits today. What's the occasion?"

"I don't really know. Maybe it's the weather." His eyes rolled up dramatically to look past Guy's head. "Ah, but what's this? The Lady Priscilla approaches!"

Guy's eyes widened. He fumbled for a napkin to wipe down his hands and face. "Do I look okay?" he hissed, but Matthew just raised an eyebrow and gave him a bemused look.

"You look fine, Guy," said a slightly puzzled female voice behind him. "Is something wrong?"

He cringed a little, fighting the blush that threatened to color his face. He jumped to his feet and turned to face the young woman.

"Ah, nothing's wrong, Miss Priscilla," he managed to stammer out, trying to smile as naturally as possible. She gave him a strange look, then shrugged and reached out to touch his arm. For about two seconds he had a hard time remaining conscious, then he realized that she was just checking his wound from yesterday. He belatedly remembered to breathe.

"How's your arm today? Lucius sent me to check on you. He said he was worried about how it would heal." Her small fingers traced the edge of the scar, pushing up his sleeve a little. She frowned. "Have you been straining yourself already? If you aren't careful, this will open up again."

"Oh, I may have hurt it this morning with Lyn-" Behind him, Matthew broke out laughing, then covered for it by pretending to cough. "Er, that is, with Lady Lyndis, we, uh... you know, it's a long story..." The temptation to rip out his sword and commit ritual suicide suddenly became overwhelmingly strong. Priscilla just looked up at him, a curious expression on her face. Meanwhile, Matthew was going into conniptions. 

"Oh, um, I see," she said delicately. "Well, I think it's safe to say you'll be fine. If you have any problems with it, talk to me or one of the clerics, by all means." She peered around him to look at Matthew. "Are you alright? I don't like the sound of that cough."

The thief gasped for air. "Oh no," he said, pounding his chest. "I'm great. Really." She nodded and bowed to them both before returning to her table. Matthew lost it and dissolved into laughter as Guy sat down sullenly.

"I'm glad you thought that was funny," he said, his cheeks burning.

"Really smooth, Guy, I mean that was truly a class act," Matthew managed to get out. 

"Remind me to kill you when I'm feeling a little less like killing myself."

Matthew chuckled a few more times, dabbing the corners of his eyes with a napkin. "Ah, don't be so hard on yourself. This one's as good as in the bag." He stood and patted his friend on the back.

Guy shot him a look. "And how would you know?"

The thief's eyes twinkled. "Why else would Lucius be playing matchmaker? There's no such thing as a coincidence, you know. Seriously, Guy, sometimes I think you never hear the important stuff." He tossed the remainder of his apple to Guy and made for the exit, whistling as he walked.

Guy looked down at the half-eaten fruit in his hand, his expression going from annoyance to recollection to dim realization to exultation. He whooped and threw the apple into the air, ignoring the strange looks from the people around him. He caught it and took a big bite out of it, humming something happy under his breath as he chewed.


	3. The Last Word

Fighting Fair

By: Chaoslace

-----

Chapter 3: The Last Word

-----

After more or less everyone had eaten breakfast, pieces of their group congealed in various places around the small town. Those with horses drifted towards the stables, those who needed weapons or armor went to visit the shops in the village center. Some sat or layed in the grassy yard of the inn, resting and enjoying the interlude of peace. The Lords Hector and Eliwood went on their usual morning rounds, taking headcount and chatting lightly while Lady Lyndis went over the inventory with Merlinus.

They had just wrapped up and she had prepared a shopping list for the knights when the two lords approached her.

"Hail, Lyndis!" Hector called out, waving jovially.

"Hail, Hector, Eliwood!" she said, smiling. "Everyone accounted for?"

Eliwood nodded. "Yes, but we've got some late risers. The usual people."

Lyn stifled a laugh. "Shall I go rouse them?"

"Oh no," said Hector. "This is my favorite part of the day!" He gave them a wicked smile, then brandished his axe and stomped off resolutely towards the inn.

Lyn and Eliwood watched him go. "You'd think they would know better by now," she said with a nervous laugh, and the red-headed lord shook his head knowingly.

Kent and Sain came over and she handed them her list along with a small bag of gold, but their conversation was cut short by an earth-shaking roar from inside the building. A high-pitched shriek followed it closely behind, which quickly dissolved into a string of half-formed oaths unmistakably directed towards a certain Ostian lordling. A few minutes later he emerged, shaking with laughter and oblivious to the glares that came from the other troops, particularly those who had been struggling to keep their horses from bolting at the man's noisy idea of a prank.

"A job well done!" he said cheerfully, returning to where Lyn and Eliwood were standing.

"Ah, Hector," Eliwood said, a refined edge in his voice. "Always the soul of tact."

"You know it!" He patted his friend heartily on the back, causing the lording to cough and sputter. All three turned to see the latecomers trickle out of the entryway to the inn. Erk was in the lead, still rubbing his eyes and trying to think of creative curses to throw at Hector. Close behind him was Lowen, sheepishly dragging a comb through his sleep-mussed hair, and taking up the rear was a very rumpled and angry-looking Raven.

Guy, who had been in the kitchen filling his satchel, bumped into the grumpy mercenary as he pushed his way out of the inn. "G'morning, Raven!" he chirped.

"Cram it, Guy."

He shrank back. "Whatever you say, boss." He watched as Raven stalked off towards the well that sat on the outer edge of the yard. Lucius intercepted him halfway and handed him a small package with a warm smile. The anger and tension in Raven's shoulders unknotted a little and he said something that made them both laugh. Guy watched curiously, then shook his head. "I don't get that," he said.

"Well, Raven can be pretty grumpy when he hasn't had his breakfast, after all."

Guy jumped and whirled around. "Matthew," he said, a little breathless from the surprise. "Where did you come from?"

The spy chuckled and gestured at the empty space around him. "Smoke and mirrors?"

Guy wrinkled his nose. "Very funny," he said, turning back towards the yard. "What are you doing, anyway? I've been looking for something to do but everyone seems to be busy with their own things."

"I've been around. Pre-battle preparations aren't exactly my thing, so I made myself scarce. Besides, I wanted to do some eavesdropping on our dear commanders." He grinned.

Guy looked over at him. "Shame on you! You shouldn't be listening in on other people's conversations, you know." Matthew just smiled and they walked a little bit in silence. Guy caved. "Hear anything interesting?"

"They're planning a visit to a port town. I didn't catch it all, but apparently the next leg of our journey is taking us to the seas."

The swordsman paled. "We're going on a boat?"

Matthew nodded. "What's wrong? You look a little green."

He shook his head. "I'm not... I'm fine." Matthew gave him a look and he sighed. "Alright, I'm not very fond of water, okay? Man, if I didn't need this job..." he stretched his arms over his head and took a deep breath. 

"Bah, just try not to think about it. If you want, I could knock you unconscious for the ride." He flashed a smile that was only half kidding.

Guy shuddered. "Uh, no thanks. I'll just... um, stay below deck if that's okay."

Matthew shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The wind picked up and stirred their hair, pulling strands from the loose ponytail Guy had tied back. They flopped across his eyes and he batted at them irritatedly for a few minutes before stopping to fix it. "Hold up," he said through his teeth, which held the small leather band as his fingers worked through his hair. He tugged most of the tangles out and quickly braided it into a long cord, which he tied and let fall down his back. He pushed the remaining loose strands out of the way and fastened his headband in place. "Ah, much better," he said, and resumed walking. "Sorry about that."

Matthew just watched him curiously, then jogged to catch up. "Why do you keep it long like that? Doesn't it get in the way?"

Guy shook his head. "Not if I take the time to put it back properly." He squinted up at the sky. "I dunno why I do. I sort of thought I'd cut it when I got married."

Matthew laughed out loud. "Is that so! Well well, I didn't know you had a romantic streak, loverboy. I'm quite impressed, really."

"Huh? What's the big deal? Everyone thinks about that stuff." 

"Ah yes, but I thought your only goal in life was to master the art of the sword." Matthew paused, laughter dancing behind his eyes. "Or were we not talking about the same kind of sword?"

Guy scowled. "Shut up, Matthew. Why do I ever tell you anything?"

"Ya got me."

They arrived at the green and Guy stepped forward, unsheathing his sword and holding it lightly in his hands. "At least I can practice for a while," he said. "If that's okay?"

The thief nodded and gestured for him to continue. "By all means."

Guy tested the ground a little and started into a pattern of thrusts and high blocks, which he'd concluded after his last incident that he needed to work on. Matthew settled in the grass, leaning against a nearby tree as he watched his friend practice. After warming up a little, Guy moved quite quickly through the pattern. His form had become much more precise since he had joined their little army. Matthew caught him performing some simple variants too, things that you could hardly see in normal practice but would matter on the battlefield. He nodded approvingly.

"You've really improved, Guy," he said. "You're looking a lot faster."

The swordsman finished up the pattern and put his sword away, nodding gratefully. "Thanks," he said, a little out of breath. "I'm feeling pretty good about it." He trotted over and sat down next to his friend, leaning back against the gnarly tree trunk. They sat that way for a while, watching the sun rise high in the sky. The weather was lovely, if a bit sticky, and Matthew had long since removed his dark cloak. There wasn't much noise, even from the camp, in the muted daylight. Guy swatted idly at a cloud of fruitflies and sighed happily.

It was Matthew that spoke first. "Wanna spar?"

Guy looked at him in surprise. "What?" He chortled a little. "You can't be serious."

"You wound me! I'll have you know I'm perfectly serious!"

Guy stopped laughing. "Are you kidding? You may have bested me with cunning before, but in broad daylight with a sword in my hand, I would crush you!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "I trust you won't hurt me," he said, hiding something behind an odd half-smile.

Guy should have known better from the look on the thief's face, but he wasn't really one for details, so he shrugged and nodded. "Well, alright, but this is going to be over pretty quickly." He stood and helped his friend up. They strode over to a nice open patch of grass and he drew his sword. Matthew stood about fifteen paces from him, his arms crossed simply over his chest. "Um, don't feel too bad," Guy said as he got into fighting stance. "If you lose."

"Oh, I won't, dear friend." He smiled and Guy shook his head. The swordsman tensed, waited a moment, then sprang forward towards his waiting opponent.

What happened next took a matter of seconds, but Guy could see it all in horrible slow-motion.

First, he missed. And Guy never missed. He struck down with the flat edge of his blade, meaning to give Matthew a nasty bruise to remember him by, but instead of a thief with an attitude problem he found only thin air. He cursed and whirled on his heels, his feet automatically carrying him into a defensive stance. He was glad for it a moment later when a familiar short sword sliced the air mere inches from his face. 

As he brought up his own sword to deflect the blow, the thought trickled through his mind that Matthew had been striking with the edge. _The bastard,_ he thought, anger flaring in his chest. _What if he had hit me?_ He steeled his grip and stepped back into a crouch, ready to lunge forward again. He wasn't just out for bruises anymore.

Their swords clashed and Guy found himself face-to-face with his opponent. Matthew seemed perfectly calm, even jovial, as they struggled in close quarters. It came down to a test of strength, and though Matthew was strong, Guy was stronger. He started to feel confident again as the thief's grip on his weapon waned and finally slipped, sending his short sword spinning off to the side, where it promptly disappeared into the thick grasses. Guy flicked the edge of his sword up to Matthew's neck triumphantly.

"There! Now, what kind of a scar should I..." he started to say, a cocky tone edging into his voice.

Matthew chuckled. "Look down."

Guy blinked, then looked down. Matthew's left hand held a silver dagger, the point hovering just inches from his lower abdomen. He paled. 

"That's... that's not fair!" he cried out. "I didn't know you had another weapon!"

"Actually," said the thief, giving him a little poke before slipping the dagger into its wrist holder, "you did. Remember?" He raised a hand and delicately moved Guy's forgotten sword away from his face. The dumbfounded swordsman let his arm go slack and his weapon dropped to the ground. Matthew chuckled and went off in search of his short sword. When he returned a few minutes later, Guy was sitting in the grass looking very dejected.

"Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad," said Matthew, sitting down across from him. "We can call it a draw, if that makes you feel any better."

"I would've been fine if you fought fair like a normal person," he grumbled.

Matthew chuckled. "Guy, most normal people fight anything but fair." He picked a blade of grass and toyed with it idly. "You're an amazing swordfighter. You really are. I've watched you practice and I know that you're becoming truly brilliant." He threw the piece of grass away and his expression became serious. "But you still fight like there's some kind of order to it. Thrust, block, parry. Thrust, block, parry." He waved his arms in mock combat movements. "It's not good for your health."

Guy just closed his eyes and fell backwards to lay in the grass. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the advice."

Matthew looked at him, then shrugged and stood up. "It's just 'cause I care." He brushed himself off and retrieved his cloak from under the tree. "Looks like everyone's getting ready to move. I'm gonna go get my stuff together, okay?"

Guy stared up at the sky for a minute, then sat up suddenly. He turned to call out after his friend. "Hey Matthew, what-" He trailed off when he realized that he was alone in the grassy field. "Smoke and mirrors," he said under his breath, a note of annoyance in his voice. He shook his head and stood, putting away his sword. "What a day this is turning out to be," he said to himself as he trotted back to the camp. "Who needs dignity, anyway?"

Lyn waved to him and he waved back, putting a fake smile on his face. "That's me. Meet Guy, headmaster of the school of Hard Knocks. The ruling king of Important Life Lessons."

There was a quiet laugh and Matthew's voice came from somewhere next to him. "You know, I like the sound of that." 

Guy didn't even bother turning his head. He just closed his eyes and set about his business, grumbling to himself about nosy thieves that just always had to have the last word.


	4. The High Seas

Fighting Fair

By: Chaoslace

-----

Chapter 4: The High Seas

-----

The port city of Badon is a sprawling, salty sea town full of shady-looking shops and surly-looking pirates. Fishermen's houses three generations old squat on the seaside by rickety ladders up to long planked docks that branch many fingers wide over the green harbor. Day and night have little meaning there, where the city stirs long before the sun graces the watery horizon, and the nightlife are still dripping off its dark underbelly when the fishers emerge to start their day's work. In some ways, it is a place like no other, only getting richer and more lively the deeper you dig beneath the surface.

Matthew loved it. You might say it was just his kind of place.

Much to his delight, the commanders announced that they were going to spend the night in town before leaving the next day. They still hadn't announced their destination, but from the hassle they had to go through just to get passage he knew that it probably wasn't a happy place. His curiosity piqued, he decided to go out after dark and see what he could find out about it. Creative acquisition of information was still his specialty, after all.

It wasn't too hard to slip away without being seen. Most everyone else had either retired early or gone to the tavern after dinner, making sneaking out as easy as simply taking a back door. He loved the way the city looked at night, with deep, long shadows that stretched over the uneven streets and the narrow lanes between buildings. Closer to the water, the air was thick and muted with humidity, creating the illusion of perfect stillness despite the lapping water and the dark figures that moved along the street. His sharp ears caught the sound of a bootstep on the wooden dockplanks and he knew that someone had clandestine business to conduct down on the harbor. He took a deep breath and smiled.

After a short walk and a shortcut under a badly maintained fence, he arrived at a plain entryway lit by a single yellow light bulb. An R was painted crudely in red on the wooden door. He didn't try the handle; he knew it would be locked. Instead, he held up one gloved hand and gave the door a firm knock. Somewhere inside there was a shuffling and he heard someone approach the door. "Do you know what time it is?" came a slightly muffled and annoyed-sounding voice.

"Oh, sorry," Matthew said brightly. "Am I too early?"

"Early? Why, I... we're not open! Go away!"

"Oh? Then when will you be open?" he asked, leaning in slightly.

"Not until ye get some better manners!" There was a decisive rap on the door.

Matthew jumped and started to laugh. "Don't make me pick this door open, old man!"

There was a pause, then the latch released and the door opened slowly. Warm light spilled out onto the street and an old man emerged to look up at Matthew with skeptical eyes. "Matthew? Is that you?"

"None other!" he said, smiling and leaning forward to pat his friend on the shoulder. "How ya been, Red?"

"I jus' can't believe it," Red said, shaking his head slowly. "Yer taller than I remember. Fer heaven's sakes, come in, come in!"

Matthew smiled gratefully and passed through into the small house. It was just as he remembered it; one long room, bare except for a cot behind a yellow curtain, a small fireplace, and several bookshelves covered in musty papers and yellowed books. The sole occupant was Red, an ancient pirate whose real name was lost to time and who had retired the sea life for a job in what he had come to call 'reference'. He scrambled over to the fire, where a kettle was boiling noisily. 

"So what brings ye back to Badon, lad?" He poured a healthy dose of thick black liquid into his cup. "Want some coffee, then?"

"Er, no thanks," Matthew said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. "That stuff takes years off your life, y'know."

Red chuckled and sat down across from him, nursing the steaming cup. "I'll believe it when I see it." He took a long sip and leaned back, looking at Matthew thoughtfully through heavy-lidded eyes. "So, tell me," he finally said matter-of-factly. "What brings ye to an old man's doorstep at this time a' the night?"

"Do you know the new group that came into town today?"

Red snorted into his coffee. "The three lordlings and their entourage? Aye, I heard about that. Hard not to, with all the noise they made about gettin' passage out of the harbor." He raised his eyebrows. "You with 'em?"

Matthew nodded. "I've been... employed in the service of Marquess Ostia since you saw me last. One of the lordlings here now is his brother."

"Gar har!" Red laughed, the sound echoing in the small room. "A spy! I knew it was in ye, you slippery dog!" He leaned forward on his knees. "So what can I do for ye, then? Got a special job for yer old mate Red?"

Matthew pulled out his purse and shook a pair of silver coins from it. He dropped them on the floor in front of the old man and they made a dull clanking noise as they landed heavily on the wood. "Tell me everything you know about the ship we've chartered for tomorrow, and where we're going."

Red pocketed the coins with one gnarled hand and looked up at Matthew sharply. "Ye mean... ye don't even know where yer own captains are goin'?"

"All I've gleaned is that it seems to be a fairly dangerous place. It was enough of a pain just getting someone to agree to take us there." He sat back thoughtfully. "I've heard that we've actually signed with pirates for the journey... hard to imagine the Lady Commander agreeing to that."

Red nodded slowly. "Might be for the best, that. Here, I'll show ye." He stood and went over to one of the bookshelves. From it, he drew a well-aged, rolled-up map, which he brought back over to spread before Matthew. A jagged scoop in the coastline revealed that it was a close-up of the harbor, with a detail of each of the major islands in the surrounding area. Many of their names sounded familiar, but Red pointed to the one furthest from the port, the one outlined in dark black ink to indicate dangerous waters. "Aye, there she is. The Dread Isle. Heard of it?" Matthew shook his head and Red nodded. "I thought as much. These marks here mean heavy fog. Here and here, there's a long rocky reef jus' below the water. Many an unfortunate ship has met her end on that shore, aye." He took a deep breath and rolled up the map. "It's not easy sailin' to get to that island. And if ye ask most people, they'll tell ye it's better off that way."

"Why's that? What's on the island?"

Red stood and put the map away. "I dunno," he said, his back to Matthew. "Never been there myself. But I've heard things. Heard there's bad things in that thick fog." He shuddered a little. "Place like that is bad luck. If I didn't know ye better, I'd say steer clear of it."

Matthew sat back, his face screwed up in thought. "Hmm," he said, half to himself. "What could we be after, I wonder?"

Red walked over to him and offered one hand to help him up. "Now, I wouldn't worry too much. I heard yer crew took up with none other than Captain Fargus. He's a good one, I can tell ye." He nodded resolutely. "If anyone can get ye there safely, he's the man for it."

The young thief smiled and nodded. "That's good to hear." He turned to leave, fastening his cloak closed at the side. "Thanks very much, Red. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I always do!" He gave Matthew a toothy grin and a bear hug before pushing him roughly out the door. "Let me know what it's like when ye get back!" he called out, then shut the door, leaving Matthew alone on the dark street.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and mused about what he had learned as he made his way back to the inn. _Very curious,_ he thought. _I could tell Lord Hector, but I somehow think that wouldn't change anything._ He shrugged, trying to shake off a bad feeling that had come over him. _Something just isn't right about this._

When he got back, all of the others were in bed and his usual nighttime restlessness had flown from him. He climbed up the back stairs to the suite of rooms they had reserved. He slipped in through the window and made his way through the darkness to an empty bed, which shared a room with three other sleeping bodies. One of them was snoring.

He gladly shed his cloak, which felt cool and clammy from the humid night air. He tossed it on the foot of the bed and fell backwards onto the soft mattress. He let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes. _C'mon Matthew. Get over it already._

"Where have you been?" Matthew's eyes popped open at the hushed voice and he turned his head to see that Guy was in the next bed. Even in the dim light, he could tell the young swordsman's eyes were puffy from sleep and his long hair was mussed and tangled. He also wore his usual expression of vague annoyance.

"Oh, did I wake you?" Matthew said softly, smiling sheepishly. "Just went to get a drink of water."

"Like hell you did," Guy mumbled into a yawn. "You're a pretty bad liar, for a spy."

Matthew's forehead wrinkled and he flopped back down on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing the criss-crossing beams with his eyes. "Gimme a break. I'm tired, okay?"

There was a long silence, and for a while he thought that Guy had gone back to sleep. He was a little surprised to open his eyes to find his friend sitting up in bed, his dark eyes flashing in the moonlight. He ran a hand through his hair and regarded Matthew evenly. 

The thief met his gaze for a moment, then scoffed and threw a pillow at him. "Stop staring like that. You're creeping me out." He rolled onto his side to face the wall, his face scrunched up in annoyance. It was late, even for him, and he was still a little disarmed by the lurking feeling of foreboding. He wanted to sleep, to dream... not to deal with little brother catching him out past curfew. 

There was a rustling sound as Guy shifted positions on the bed. "Wow, you're touchy tonight. Did you think I was gonna tell on you?" he mocked lightly. "Don't worry. I just can't sleep. I was up before you came in. I can't deal with Sain's snoring." He threw Matthew's pillow half-heartedly across the room towards where the knight lay sprawled on his bed. It fell short about two-thirds of the way there and landed on the ground with a diminutive noise. He sighed. "I guess that's why I didn't grow up to be an archer."

Matthew ignored him, clenching his eyes shut and trying to think of boring things. Sheep drifted in and out of his mind and he found himself teetering on the edge of sleep when Guy started to talk again.

"Hey, where are you from originally?" There was another rustling noise as he pulled the blankets up around himself.

Matthew gritted his teeth, startled out of slumber by the sudden question. He tried to return to the fluffy soft world of the sheep, but they had all fled from his dreams, and his mind was now more or less alert. "Ostia," he mumbled resignedly.

"Is that how you came to be in Lord Hector's service?"

He sighed. "That's a long story."

"Can I hear it?"

"No, because then I'd have to kill you." He turned his head to see Guy looking at him with a startled expression. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the wall. "I was just kidding. It's really just far too exciting to be telling at this hour of night."

"Does it have anything to do with Leila?"

Matthew stiffened. "How do you... what do you know about that?" he said slowly, after a moment.

Guy laughed softly. "Relax. You say her name in your sleep sometimes."

He ran his hands over his face, then sat up and faced his friend, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, I guess it did have something to do with someone named Leila," he said softly.

Guy leaned back in his bed, grinning like a little kid about to hear a bedtime story. "So who is she? Your sweetheart?"

Matthew shook his head, then stifled a laugh. "Guy, you're... okay, yeah. I guess you could call her that." He looked down and toyed with the edge of his blanket, his mind drifting into memory. "I met her a long time ago. She lived in an old house that had all these secret passageways, and... we played hide-and-seek in it when we were kids. She was a lot better at it than me." He laughed sheepishly. "She's from a good family, so she was able to go to the court, but she couldn't stand the idea of just sitting around looking pretty all day. So when she was old enough, she enlisted to serve instead. Ohh, I remember how livid her dad was. He turned every color from here to the sun." He paused. "I left my family when I was pretty young, traveling and trying to make something of myself. Turned out I was skilled at the more... subtle arts. When I came back to Ostia, Leila was still working for the Marquess, so... I guess the rest is history." A heavy silence settled in the room as his mind wandered back to the present time. 

After a long silence he spoke again. "I'm looking forward to seeing her again," he said, and smiled. The lurking bad feeling had fled from his heart and he was starting to feel like himself again. "You know, I'm glad I talked about that, Guy. Thanks for asking," he said, looking up.

The only response he got was a light snore from the blanketed heap that Guy had melted into. "Asleep..." Matthew said slowly, then shook his head. "Unbelievable. Just unbelievable." He chuckled under his breath, then curled up under the covers. This time, he had no trouble falling asleep. 

* * * 

[Guy's Dream]

It was dark. The room was very familiar, and even in the darkness he could move through it without thinking. He found the door and pushed it open, blinking in the bright sunlight that spilled in.

His eyes focused and he realized that he was back on the plains. The landscape was heavily saturated green and yellow and the sun was burning high in the sky. He felt hot in its glare and struggled to strip off his tunic. When he pulled it off, he realized that it was stained bright red with blood. He held the sullied garment in his hands awkwardly as people he might have known walked by him. They watched him, their features a mix of concern and disgust. He took a step back, frightened by the blood and the people. He felt very small.

Then he was in his house, his mother insistently taking his bloodstained tunic from his hands. She clucked and smiled jovially as she plunged it into a wooden tub of frothy water. "You're such a messy child," she said. 

Guy just watched her, first confused, then embarrassed. He lowered his chin and mumbled, "Sorry, mom." The wash-water turned pink as she scrubbed at his tunic. 

"Shame on you, making your mother work so hard all the time."

The rough voice was unmistakable. "Dad?" he said, turning. "Are you home already?"

There was a deep laugh and a large father-figure breezed by him, patting his shoulder and kissing his mother on the cheek. "Dad," Guy said again, then rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. The shapes of his parents grew dim and blurry. He blinked, trying to keep the vision intact, but soon enough it faded back to black, and he forgot that he had ever been there.

[Matthew's Dream]

It was dark. He found himself crouched in a very small space, only a pinprick of light coming through a thin crack between two doors. His hands rested on his knees and he was trying very hard to hold his breath in.

Outside of his tiny space there was a series of fast, light footsteps pacing back and forth around the room. He closed his eyes, shrinking into the shadows as much as possible. The footsteps grew closer and he heard a small laugh. "You wouldn't be so stupid as to hide in there, would you?" 

The double doors were yanked open and a small, bright-eyed girl stood before him. "Aha!" she exclaimed, taking him by the arm and dragging him out of the cabinet. "Geez Matthew, you gotta be a little more creative than that. It's not even hard anymore."

He protested, struggling a little, and surprised at how small and sluggish his limbs felt. The girl pushed him up against the wall. "Okay, it's my turn now. Count all the way to fifty! No peeking!"

"But Leila," he said, in a high whiny voice. Then he sighed and faced the wall, covering his eyes with his arms. "Fine, fine. 1...2...3...456...789..." He heard her run out of the room and the stairway to the second floor creaked. Again he heard her footsteps, now above him. He opened his eyes and backed away from the wall slowly, careful not to make any noise. "39...40...41..." he counted under his breath, making his way up the stairs. When he arrived at the room he'd heard her in, he jumped through the doorway noisily. "50!"

Except for him, the room was quiet.

He took a step forward. "Leila?" He looked around, checking under the desk and in all of the cabinets. "Leila?" He checked behind an overstuffed lounge chair. "Aren't you mad that I cheated?"

There was no response.

_Huh. I guess I was wrong about where she was._ He backed out of the room, then ran down the hall, looking in the various bedrooms and calling out her name. He grew more frantic as he moved past countless doors, checked under countless beds. He tore open each closet and looked behind every piece of furniture. "Leila!" he cried out, now scared and panting from the exertion. A sick feeling rose in his stomach, and he knew that no matter where he ran, he was only getting farther away from her. He finally sank to the ground and hugged his knees tightly.

"Leila," he said, tears dripping down his face. "Please come out. This isn't funny..."

"Leila..."

"RAAAAWRRRRR!" Matthew started awake, jumping about three feet straight into the air. His heart skipped several beats and raced to catch up in the face of a giant roaring monster brandishing a sick-looking axe. He scrambled to sit up, a knife in each of his hands and poised to attack before his eyes focused and he realized who it was. 

"Lord Hector," he said slowly, then shook his head and crumpled into a little heap on the bed. "Good god, man. If you weren't my commander you would be skinned and gutted by now."

Hector chuckled, the sound resonating deep in his belly. "Not bloody likely," he said cheerfully. "Now get up, sleepyhead. You missed breakfast, so get your stuff and get downstairs. We're leaving for the docks." With that he swung his axe over his shoulder and made his exit, whistling something happy under his breath.

Matthew rubbed his face with his hands. "Good morning to you too," he muttered. After a moment to recover and get his bearing, he crawled out of bed and got ready to go. Everyone else did seem to be downstairs, so he hurried and made his way to join them. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't remember what it was.

"Oh well," he said to himself, shrugging it off. "It was probably nothing."

* * *

Captain Fargus's ship was barely ten minutes out the harbor when Guy started to feel seasick.

"Ohhh god," he said, his face turning pale. He hugged his stomach tightly and wobbled his way over to the hold, intending to spend the rest of the trip in the dark, with his eyes closed, and a blanket over his head. Matthew noticed him and intercepted him halfway.

"Hey, you don't look so good," he said, catching Guy by the arm. "Want me to get a healer?"

"I'm fine," the swordsman mumbled, half-heartedly pulling his arm away. "I just wanna get down... down into the hold." The ship took a particularly strong lurch and he let out a low moan. 

"You don't look fine," said Matthew. "C'mon." He tugged at Guy's arm and waved to a white-robed figure that stood on a higher level of the ship. "Lucius, is that you?" he called out. "Can you help with something?" 

The bishop nodded and made his way down the stairs to the lower deck. He took one look at Guy, who was moaning and leaning against Matthew, and let out a small noise of concern. "Guy, are you sick?"

"I'm fine," Guy said weakly.

"He's lying," Matthew said matter-of-factly.

Lucius leaned forward and looked into Guy's eyes carefully. "Hmm," he said after a minute. "I think I know what would help." He bent and rummaged through the small white bag that he carried. He produced an intricately carved staff with a small golden ball at the end of it. He held the staff in both hands out in front of him and murmured something under his breath. A warm yellow light came from the golden ball and wrapped itself around the three men. Matthew found himself resisting the urge to yawn.

After a moment the light faded and Lucius put the staff back in his bag. "So what did that do?" Matthew asked.

"Take a look for yourself."

The thief turned his head and found that Guy had slumped against him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was light and even. "You put him to sleep?"

Lucius smiled. "It'll wear off in a few hours. Until then, maybe you should take him downstairs and let him rest in the hold."

Matthew groaned. "I have to carry him down there?"

"Shall I get one of the bigger men to help?"

He squared his shoulders proudly. "That won't be necessary, thank you! I can carry this little shrimp, no problem." 

"Ah, yes, indeed." Lucius gave him a slightly bemused smile, then bowed and made his way back up to the top deck. 

Matthew sighed and took a look at his peacefully sleeping friend. "If you didn't owe me," he said under his breath, then grunted and bent to pick him up. "Those boons had better be worth it," he muttered, and slowly walked over to the stairs down into the hold. "Ugh, you're heavier than you look. What've you been eating anyway?"

The stairs proved to be something of a problem, but he managed to get down them by putting one arm around Guy's waist and walking him down one step at a time. A few of the others were resting or milling around in the hold, so they helped him get the sleeping swordsman into a bedroll that was laid out on the ground. When it was all done, Matthew was sweating and breathing heavily. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and sat down on the planks next to his friend.

He produced an apple from somewhere in his satchel and bit into it noisily. He was still munching on it when leather-booted feet appeared in front of him, accompanied by a soft voice.

"Is he alright?" the young lady asked tentatively.

Matthew looked up, then jumped to his feet. He smiled and gave a little half-bow. "Lady Priscilla! It's good to see you are well."

"Actually, I'm feeling a little seasick," she said, with a gentle laugh. "Same as your friend, there."

Matthew grinned sheepishly. "Ah, you heard about that, huh?"

She nodded. "Of course. Lucius told me. He asked me to-"

"Look after Guy?"

"Why, yes. How'd you know?"

"How indeed," he said, laughing. She gave him a puzzled look, then shook her head. Her hair just brushed her shoulders and caught the light when she moved. _She really is lovely,_ Matthew thought, looking at her in surprise. _Maybe she's grown up some since she first joined us._

"So," she said, kneeling on the ground beside Guy's sleeping form. "He does look better. His color is fine and he seems to be sleeping peacefully." 

Matthew sat back down, resuming his late breakfast. "Will he suffer any ill effects from the sleep spell?"

Priscilla thought a moment, then shook her head. "He'll probably be a bit groggy, but other than that, no." She looked down at Guy, then reached out tentatively and brushed a loose strand of hair out of his face. Matthew raised a eyebrow but stifled his smile in his apple.

"Well," he said, chewing. "That's good to hear! I was worried that-" he started to say, but they were interrupted by a sudden terrible crunching noise. The impossibly loud sound of splintering wood met their ears, and someone further down the hold screamed. 

"Serra!" Priscilla cried out, jumping up. "That was Serra! What's going on?" Her voice rose in fear and panic. Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"We've been hit," he growled. "There's water coming in at the other end." He turned towards Priscilla. "Get up top."

"But-"

"Do it!" he insisted, pushing her roughly towards the stairs, which were already swarming with Fargus's crew. "Just go," he said again, softer this time, and more pleading. She looked at him for a moment, then nodded and ran towards the stairs.

The cold seawater was already licking the toes of his boots, and Matthew quickly ducked down to get his friend up off the ground. "C'mon, Guy, wake up," he urged, holding the young man up with one arm around his waist. "Wake up, Guy!" He slowly progressed towards the stairs, where a hectic crowd had formed. Most of the pirate crew had collected around the breach and their voices echoed back and forth as they worked to repair the hull. Someone was yelling from the deck - it sounded like Eliwood - calling for reinforcements up top. Many of their mercenary team had gone up, with the exception of the strongest men, who stayed below to help the pirates. 

When Matthew reached the stairs the water had swelled up to his ankles. Guy still showed no signs of waking, and the unmistakable sounds of battle drifted down from above them. He sat Guy down on the stair and shook him violently by the shoulders. "Guy, wake up already!" The swordsman moaned a little, but his eyes didn't open. Matthew looked around, then took a deep breath. "This will hurt me more than it hurts you," he said gruffly, then slapped his friend hard, right across the face.

Guy moaned again, and this time his eyes blinked open slowly. "Hey, what's the big idea-" he trailed off when he realized where they were. He paled. "We're still on the ship, aren't we."

"For the time being. Don't know if it'll last, though. Can you stand?"

Guy nodded and got to his feet slowly. "Oof," he said, holding a hand to his temple. "I feel like someone hit me over the head with a hammer."

"That's Lucius for you. You can bring it up with him later. But for now, I suggest we move and let the ship's crew do their duty here." He grabbed Guy's arm and half pulled, half dragged his friend up the stairs to the lower deck. 

They were in a small sheltered area that seemed to be pretty well defended. Merlinus sat in the corner, trying to waterproof as much of his inventory as he could. The healers had set up a small station for the wounded, and a very familiar-looking girl sat against the wall, hugging her knees and shivering. Matthew stared at her, trying to place where he'd seen her before. When she turned to look at him, her bright red eyes brought it his memory back.

"Ninian?" he said in disbelief, releasing Guy and stepping forward. "Why... how did you get here?"

Her eyes remained blank and dispassionate as she stared back at him. She simply shook her head, and said nothing.

Guy leaned against a wall and took a deep breath. "Who is she?" he asked wearily. "What's wrong with her?" 

Matthew turned his head. "She's... Her name is Ninian. I met her a long time ago, when I was traveling with Lady Lyndis." He approached the young girl. "Don't be scared," he said gently, when she shied away from him. "You remember me, right? It's Matthew! The handsome thief!"

Guy rolled his eyes. "Now you're really going to scare the poor girl."

Matthew ignored him. "Ninian, why are you here? Where is Nils?"

Her clouded ruby eyes looked up in dim recognition. "Nils..." she said weakly.

He shook his head, then backed away from her. "Hey Serra," he said, catching the young priestess by the arm.

"Hey, watch it!" she snapped, ripping her arm away. "I'm trying to work here!"

"What's wrong with Ninian?"

Serra looked down at the girl and tilted her head. "She's not hurt or anything. There's nothing we can do right now but keep her safe until she snaps out of it." She looked up. "It's weird that she's here, isn't it? Just floating on the ocean like that." She shrugged. "But for now I'm more worried about not ending up in a watery grave, so if you'll excuse me..." She turned and stomped off resolutely towards Merlinus.

Matthew sighed. "Just charming," he said, then turned back to Guy. "Well, it seems like I've missed just as much as you did." 

There was a loud noise from up above, and they both heard Lord Hector yelling over the din. After a moment Eliwood yelled back, and the sounds of battle diminished somewhat. "I think it's ending," Guy said, still bracing himself against the wall. "Let's go up and help." He pushed himself back to his feet and took a few wobbly steps.

Matthew frowned. "You're staying right here," he said. "No arguing! If you go up there like this you'll just fall on your face and get an axe in the back. Besides," he added with a smirk. "I took the liberty of borrowing your sword."

Guy's eyes opened wide and he looked down at his belt. Sure enough, his scabbard had been detached from it's usual place. "Matthew, you little-"

"Oh, hush, you weren't using it anyway." He attached the sword to his own belt and tossed his short sword to Guy. "Hang on to this for me, would ya? I'm going up." With that, he climbed to the top level, ignoring the noisy protests of his friend.

Guy watched him go, then slumped against the wall and let himself slide to the floor. He held the short sword in his lap. "What am I supposed to do with this little thing?" he asked, looking it distastefully. "Carve up a turkey?"

He heard a triumphant shout from down in the hold, and the ship rocked back and forth to right itself, apparently no longer taking in water. "Oh god," he said, struggling to ignore the motion. He moaned softly and clutched at his stomach, rolling onto his side. Light footsteps approached him.

"Guy, you okay?"

"Serra?" he asked weakly. The priestess looked down at him and nodded. "Serra..." he said again.

"What's wrong?" She leaned closer. "Are you hurt?"

The ship lurched and he felt the blood drain from his face. "I think I'm gonna be sick-" he started to say, but he didn't get too far into it.

"Guy? Guy! Oh, gross! Man, why do I always get stuck doing the dirty work!"


	5. Begin Again

Fighting Fair

By: Chaoslace

-----

Chapter 5: Begin Again

-----

No one was comfortable when the Dread Isle came into sight. A thick, sticky fog had passed over them like a curtain and the ship creaked ominously in the dark waters. Strange shapes could be seen darting just below the surface, and the normally boisterous crew had become hushed and withdrawn. Even Fargus seemed strained by the evil atmosphere of the place; his eyes were dark and focused straight ahead, and drops of sweat beaded on his forehead. 

The commanders had assembled the troops to be ready to disembark. They stood in clusters and lines, not talking or joking, just looking nervously from one another to the shrouded isle and then back again. Rumors had started to spread about what lay in wait there, and despite assurances from Lord Eliwood, the shadow of fear settled around them. As they drew closer, it became almost as thick as the fog.

"I don't like the looks of this," Guy whispered to Matthew. They stood together, a little apart from the others, looking out over the railing. Matthew said nothing, and after a few minutes of silence Guy tugged at his hair and started to braid it into a tight cord. 

Matthew looked over at him. "Is that a nervous habit or something?"

He tied off the braid and let it fall down his back. "I'm just getting ready for battle."

The thief raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're okay for that? How's your tummy feeling?" he asked in a mocking motherly tone.

Guy grimaced. "I'm fine now, thank you," he mumbled. He crossed his arms and stared sullenly at the rocky shore. _It's so humid,_ he thought, shifting uncomfortably, even in his light tunic. He noted Matthew pacing restlessly behind him. _It's getting to everyone_.

They waited for another half hour as the ship made her way carefully through the reefs. Through the fog a dark forest became visible not a hundred yards from the shore. As they made their landing, Captain Fargus came down from the top deck, speaking with Lord Eliwood. 

"I know the forest is dangerous, but this is damn near the only safe place to get near the wretched island," he said, eying the treeline warily.

"I understand," Eliwood said. "Thank you so much for your trouble."

"Aye," the old pirate said, then shook his head. "You mooncalves take care of yourselves down there. I don't like the feel of the air here, not one bit."

"We'll be fine," the lord assured him calmly. 

Guy watched his commander from where he stood a few steps away. _How can he be so collected?_ he wondered. _It's like he doesn't even have feelings._ "I wish I could be that cool," he murmured under his breath.

"He needs to stay cool," Matthew said, still facing the shore. "If he showed even a little bit of fear, it would shake the army's resolve, down to the very last man." He turned towards Guy. "Leaders can't afford the luxury of humanity."

Guy looked at him quizzically. "Matthew, what's gotten into you? You sound like the end of the world is coming."

The thief gave him a surprised look, then shook his head. "You're right. Dunno what I was thinking." There was a slight jostling that indicated the ship had come to a stop. "Right! Seems like we're here!" He picked up his bag and strode away whistling, the picture of perfect joviality. Guy was the only one that saw how forced it was. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, then grabbed his satchel and stepped in line to exit the ship.

* * *

"I hate this!"

The piercing exclamation came from Serra, who had stepped off the planking right into an ankle-deep puddle of mud. Her robes had been dirtied almost to the knees, and she was stomping around angrily trying to shake some of it off. 

"I hate hate hate it! I'm never going to get these stains out!" 

"We could toss you in the harbor," a nearby Erk suggested mildly. Behind him, Bartre put down a large box he'd been carrying and sniggered.

Serra tromped over and sat down heavily on the crate. "Maybe you think it's funny," she said, crossing her arms. 

"Actually, I rather do," he said. "So sorry."

"Break it up, you two," came an authoritative voice. They turned to see Hector approaching with a small box under each arm. "Bartre, do you have that crate? I think that's the last of it, so let's get this stuff over to Merlinus."

"Yes, sir!" Bartre said, then crouched to get a grip on the crate. He grunted and lifted it in one smooth movement. 

"HEY!" Serra shrieked. "I'm still on here, stupid! Put me down, put me down!" she yelled, bashing the poor fighter on the head with her staff. 

"'Fraid I can't do that, Miss Serra," he said in a muffled voice. "Got to... get this to Merlinus... phoo. It's heavier 'an it looked... OW!"

By the time the large man and the precariously balanced cleric arrived at the merchant tent, the rest of the group had disembarked and Lyndis was taking a quick head count. One of the pirate crew had stayed with them, a sharp-looking man by the name of Dart. He spoke with Hector in hushed tones, then the lord nodded and turned to make his way his way through the crowd. Matthew, who had been sitting on a tree stump and securing his boots, looked up to see him approach. 

"Matthew," he said. 

The thief stood quickly and bowed. "Young master!" he said. "Can I do something for you?"

The lord grinned and gestured to the air around them. "How are your sharp eyes with this fog?"

Matthew sniffed. "It's not too bad." His mouth turned upward in a grin. "Would you like me to do some scouting?"

Hector thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I don't want anyone separated from the group. Dart says there's a way through the forest, but we can't see beyond the treeline. Eliwood and Lyndis thought we might go take a look for ourselves, and I could use your help."

"You got it!" The thief secured his cloak around his shoulders, then followed his master to where Lyn and Eliwood were standing and talking. Next to Eliwood was the girl, Ninian, her eyes still dark and unfocused. She wavered and he placed his arm around her back protectively. Lyn leaned forward and put a hand on her forehead, then frowned slightly. 

"How is she?" asked Hector as they approached. 

Lyn shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "She's still unresponsive, and so cool to the touch."

"Still doesn't remember anything?"

"No more than before. She seems to remember me somewhat, and Eliwood especially, but not much else."

Matthew took a step forward. "What do you think happened to Nils, milady?" he asked quietly.

Lyn looked over at him. "I wish I knew, Matthew," she said, concern showing in her face.

Ninian murmured and Eliwood looked at the others sheepishly. "Do you mind if she comes with us? I don't want to leave her alone."

Lyn and Hector exchanged quick looks, and a slower individual than Matthew might not have even noticed it. He did, however, and kept his smile to himself. Amidst the three commanders, he felt better somehow. He knew that they felt the ominous air too, but the warmth and confidence they shared encouraged him. _It isn't so bad,_ he thought. _After all, this is my element._

He was about to graciously suggest that Lord Eliwood and Ninian stay behind together when the young girl cried out sharply. The three lords looked at her in alarm, and her eyes were wide open in fear.

"I..." she said, struggling to get the words out. "Something is there..." she pointed towards the dark forest with one trembling hand. She pulled away from Eliwood and took a few steps forward. "In the forest... something... dark..." Lyn ran forward and grasped her shoulders, pulling her gently back and trying to soothe her. 

"Ninian," Eliwood said, grasping the hilt of his sword with one hand. His expression hardened, and he looked over at Hector. The lords nodded to each other, then drew their weapons and moved forward slowly. 

Matthew slid his dagger from its wrist holder, but kept it light in his palm and concealed beneath his cloak as his eyes searched the thick fog.

"Matthew," Hector whispered. "Do you see anything?"

He was about to shake his head when he saw a dark shape moving behind the treeline. "Someone's there," he hissed. "I can see them now."

"Show us," Eliwood growled low under his breath.

Silently, Matthew crept forward. He kept his eyes locked on their target, which had stopped moving. He could see a vague human outline as they grew closer, then shapes and colors began to reveal themselves. 

"I see him too," said Hector softly. "What is he waiting for? A messenger maybe?"

Matthew squinted, then recognition dawned over his face. He stood up straight and gestured for the others to put away their weapons. "Don't worry. It's a friend," he said, smiling broadly.

They stepped forward, and Hector and Eliwood saw her at the same time. A young woman was leaning back against a tree, her eyes closed and arms crossed over her chest. Straight red hair fell across her forehead and just barely touched the bottom of her ears. "Leila!" Hector exclaimed, laughing softly. "We thought you were an enemy!" He strode forward. "I'm impressed that you managed to find us here. Good work as usual!" He patted her heartily on the shoulder, jostling her and causing her arms to fall to her sides.

Matthew's heart stopped. 

Her face was the same, her expression so peaceful and composed, her cheeks still flushed. But the rest of her... The front of her vest was torn and stained dark red with blood, revealing a deep, angry gash from her breastbone to her abdomen. Hector pulled his arm back and she crumpled, sliding down the slick trunk of the tree before falling onto her side. 

"My god," said Eliwood softly behind him. The words hung in the air for an impossibly long time before sinking into his skin. Hector said nothing, just backed away slowly, his expression hardened and angry. The three of them stood in silence that way for several minutes before Hector spoke again.

"Matthew," he said hoarsely. "I... I'm sorry..."

"About what, milord?" Matthew said, unable to tear his eyes from Leila's torn and broken body. "It's a dangerous profession," he said, almost mechanically. "We both knew the risks."

Eliwood stepped forward to put his hand on the thief's shoulder. Matthew shrugged him off and turned to face the two lords. "I was going to ask her to give it up, when this was all over," he whispered, a small smile touching his lips. "I guess I waited too long, huh?" He laughed, once, a sharp sound that cut through the heavy air. He shook his head and his face became serious again. "Well, it's not going to happen now."

Hector looked at him for a long time, his eyes full of pain and regret. "Matthew..."

"Milord," Matthew cut him off. "I'd like to be alone with her, if that's okay." He turned away, his shoulders heavy. "Please," he added softly. "Someone needs to give her a proper burial."

Hector looked at Eliwood, then back to Matthew. He nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Come back to camp as soon as you can." With that he turned and left, gesturing for Eliwood to follow.

Matthew sank to his knees and pressed his hands to the soft earth. The soil was moist and cool, and he started digging with his hands, pulling up clumps of earth and grass and tossing them to the side. His vision blurred and he worked faster, tearing at the ground until his fingers were scraped and bruised. When the soil turned to clay, he ripped out his sword and hacked at it viciously, sending bits of the raw red earth flying into the air. "Where was I?" he cried out, striking down hard. "Where was I! Goddamn it!" His sword hit a rock and clattered out of his hand, jarring his wrist painfully. He moaned and leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. Tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the dirt on his hands and smudging his face.

A noise behind him made him grab his sword and whirl around. "Who's there?" he called out suspiciously, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand. 

"It's me," said a familiar voice, and Guy emerged from the fog. "Lyn sent me to-"

"Well, don't," Matthew snapped, turning back to the hole he was digging. He levered out a large chunk of clay and let it fall heavily to the side. "Just go away, Guy."

There was a long silence, and he checked over his shoulder. The swordsman was still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest and a resolute expression on his face. Matthew growled and stood up swiftly, his battered sword still in one hand. He stalked up to Guy and grasped him roughly by the front of his tunic.

"M-Matthew!" he said, startled. "What the-"

"Shut up," the thief snarled. "I don't know what ideas you got about _friendship_ or _teamwork_ from that touchy-feely commander of ours, but I do know one thing. I work alone." He shoved Guy backwards. "It's part of the job, you know? I work alone. She worked alone. I don't need you, or anyone, okay?" Guy tried to take a step forward and he stopped him with the point of his sword. "So go back to your friends. Leave me to my work."

Guy just looked back at him, his eyes full of hurt and confusion. Matthew's heart ached, but he didn't lower his sword. After a long moment like that, Guy took a step backward and nodded, then disappeared into the fog. 

Matthew let out a long breath, his arm falling back to his side. He turned and walked resignedly back to the shallow grave he had dug. He knelt and measured it with his arms, very carefully making sure it was large enough. When he was convinced, he went to the forest's edge and gathered an armful of soft pine branches, taking them back to line the bottom. He laid it in carefully, constructing a sweet-smelling bed of greenery. He rocked back on his heels, then stood and turned to face Leila for the first time since he'd been left alone with her.

She still lay on her side, the red hair fanned around her head in stark contrast with the dark earth. A pang of grief and regret struck his heart and he winced. He approached her slowly, almost reverently, then knelt.

"Leila," he whispered, gathering her into his arms. He bit back tears as he smoothed her hair back. "I'm so sorry," he choked. "I know you're probably mad at me for being upset." He stood slowly, lifting her up. "But I miss you so much right now." He took her to the earth-bed that he'd laid out for her. "I just need a little time. Then," he paused, his words caught in his chest. "I'll be fine." He hugged her to him once last time, then bent and laid her down on the soft greens.

He straightened her clothes and folded her arms over her stomach. Her expression was still calm and peaceful, and it made him smile a little. "Thank you," he said, then kissed her forehead and set about filling in the earth around her.

Once he had covered her grave, he patted down the soft mound and placed a large piece of red clay at the head. He took out his dagger and carved "Leila" into the surface of it. Taking a step back, he bowed his head and said a silent eulogy. He was just about ready to turn back to the camp when he heard a sound.

"Guy, what did I-" he started to say, turning. His words fell short when he found himself staring into the faces of three grinning mercenaries. They were dressed in dark blue jackets belted with brown leather around the waist and the upper arms. Each had a mean-looking sword at his hip.

"Oh, hello there," Matthew said, taking a step backward. He reached for his sword, but realized that he had left it at the forest's edge. Not that it would do him much good after being dulled on the compact clay. "I don't suppose you're on our side, are you?"

"I guess that depends on who's side _you're_ on, little man," one of the goons said, laughing harshly. 

"Hey, check this out, boss," the shorter one said, nudging the clay headstone with his toe. 

The leader stepped forward and leaned down to read the inscription. "Le-i-la," he read. "Baw haw! Lookie here! Must be a friend of that bitch we laid out here earlier." His lips turned into a sneer. "You find her, little man? Like our handiwork?" 

Matthew growled low in his throat. "Did you kill her?" he asked, his voice cold.

The man laughed again, then kicked the headstone hard with one booted foot. The clay crumbled and went flying into pieces. "Maybe I did. Maybe I'll kill you too. Would you like that? Be with your lady friend again?" His cronies snickered and drew their swords, advancing on either side to surround him. 

The thief backed away slowly, unsheathing his dagger under his cloak. _No way out,_ he thought, his eyes darting around. _No weapon to speak of._ He crouched slightly, readying his dagger. _At least I can take down their leader before I die. But he didn't kill Leila. I don't know who did, but it sure as hell wasn't him._

The three mercenaries were almost on him when a voice rang out sharply through the fog. "Three on one?" it said amusedly. "That doesn't really seem fair, now does it?"

They turned, searching for the source of the voice. "Who's there?" the largest one grunted. "Show yourself!"

Matthew knew better than to miss this opportunity, and he was on the nearest mercenary in a matter of seconds. He buried his dagger deep in the man's right shoulder, causing him to roar and whirl around. Matthew easily dodged the incoming blow, which went far wide due to the dagger wound. The others didn't have a chance to respond before a hurricane of blue steel descended on them, slicing the smallest one once, then twice in the back. He fell without a word.

"Guy!" Matthew cried out, dodging other swing from the injured soldier. "I've never been happier to seen anyone in my life!"

"Leave me alone," said Guy between his teeth, panting heavily as he sparred with the leader. "I'm working."

Matthew laughed, then lunged forward, crouching low to cut right into the unfortunate mercenary's gut. The man screamed, then fell to his knees. "I'll be taking this," Matthew said, easily liberating his victim's sword, and then using it to fell the killing blow. "You won't be needing it, anyway."

Guy had gotten the advantage in his fight, and it didn't take him long to exploit it. Though the man was quite strong, he wasn't too skilled with a blade, and Guy baited him in. When he raised his arm to strike, Guy flicked his own sword up, easily disarming him. The man sputtered, then sank to his knees.

"I didn't kill her! I swear I didn't! Have mercy, please!"

Matthew walked up behind Guy, who turned to look at him. "What do you think?" he asked.

"It is two against one... not exactly fighting fair..." Matthew said, a grin spreading across his face.

Guy grinned back. "Sounds good to me," he said, and the two of them raised their swords above their victim. The man shrieked and ran away, tripping over one of his fallen colleagues before disappearing into the forest. Guy started to follow, but Matthew grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Let him go," he said. "He's not worth it." He bent down and wiped his new sword on the ground. "So, spill it. What were you doing here?"

Guy flushed a little. "Well, I didn't exactly leave when you told me to."

Matthew looked at him in disbelief, then a smile spread across his face and he started to laugh. "You were hiding this whole time? Oh Guy, I'm so proud of you! Sneaking around like a thief."

"Very funny. It was my swordwork that saved you back there, don't forget!"

Matthew patted his friend on the shoulder and nodded solemnly. "That it did. Thank you very much, my friend." He took another look around, then glanced to the sky. "We should go back. They'll be worrying soon."

Guy nodded and the two of them set off together for the camp. "So, uh, Matthew," he said after a moment.

"Mm?"

"This means we're even, right? I saved your life, so... I don't owe you any more, right?"

Matthew chuckled. "I don't think so," he said. "You owe me one for every piece of meat!"

Guy gaped. "What? You saved my life one, I saved your life once! We're even!"

"Nuh-uh... you wrote it on the oathpaper, remember? You still owe me twice over."

Guy stopped in his tracks. "What? That's - That's not fair!"

Matthew looked at him, his eyes dancing in amusement. "My dear friend, that's exactly the point, isn't it?"

The swordsman smacked his forehead with his hand. "Give me the strength to suffer this man," he moaned, then turned and started trudging back towards the camp.

Matthew followed along cheerfully, his hands in his pockets. After a few minutes he paused, letting his friend go on ahead a bit. He faced back to where he'd buried Leila. "Goodbye," he said under his breath, smiling. "Thanks for looking out for me. I'll take care of him, I promise. And the others too." With that, he bowed, and then turned back to return to his friends.


	6. Epilogue

Fighting Fair  
By: Chaoslace

-----  
Epilogue  
-----

Where Matthew and Guy had been good friends before, after the incident on the Dread Isle they became nigh unto inseparable. Though their journey would not be over for many months, neither of them fought alone again. When all things came together in the very last confrontation and the most dangerous series of battles, Matthew consumed one of his remaining two boons to demand a promise from Guy: the promise to live to see the next day. In true Sacaen form, Guy kept good his word, and when Nergal was vanquished and the threat of dragons halted, the two friends found themselves alive together on the other side.

Guy chose to return to Ostia with Matthew, but refused Lord Hector's invitation to join his service. "I like it here," he had admitted, "But someday I want to go home. When my training is complete."

As for that, he found more than enough of it in the wake of Nergal's terrorism. Good money was to be had working as a sellsword, especially in the bandit-stricken lands surrounding the recently acquired Caelin. He made a healthy living for himself, and when they saw each other, Matthew often gaped and commented that he was in the wrong field of work. Now that Guy was well fed, he shot up a full inch in height, and the casual observer might say that he had finally come into his own. 

The casual observer, of course, would be wrong, for on the inside he was still the feisty, irresponsible, quick-tempered, and well-meaning if naive Guy that he always was. The only difference was a full stomach, good friends, and a happier life.

It was almost a year later to the day when he found himself traveling with Matthew again, but to a very different end.

"An ascension ceremony?"

Matthew held out the invitation. "Yeah! Lord Eliwood is finally going to be taking his father's place as Marquess Pherae." 

"Sounds boring."

"Clearly you have no experience with parties thrown by nobles."

Guy wrinkled his nose. "Are they somehow more exciting than normal peoples' parties?"

"No, but the banquet is all you can eat, and the drinks are free."

His eyes widened. "So, when do we leave?"

* * *

The journey took about fourteen days; longer than usual due to the rather bloated Ostian entourage they were accompanying. It was well worth it however, for when they arrived Lord Hector's party received a welcome unparalleled by anything they had ever seen. 

"These are truly fortunate times," Matthew had said, even his seasoned eyes full of wonder at the lively scene Lord Eliwood had prepared for them. The cobbled streets had been scrubbed and all of Pherae seemed sparkling in the bright spring sun. The castle itself shown white and was adorned with bright streamers that looped and curled in vivid dances in the wind. Lord Hector received a shower of lilac blossoms as he passed through the gates into the city, tossed by a regiment of giggling girls wearing frilly dresses of pink blush. The whole town was involved in preparations for the affair, and the excited buzz lifted their company's spirits immensely.

"That they most certainly are," Guy agreed, his face bathed in wonder and delight.

The ceremony itself was held two days later in the broad courtyard of the castle Pherae. Eliwood recited his oath to his country in a loud, clear voice that carried even over the enormous crowd, and on a clear spring afternoon he ascended into his full birthright. The roar of cheers was deafening, and the sky over the castle yard twinkled with lavender and white lilac petals tossed by armfuls into the air.

That night the new Marquess Pherae opened up the doors of his great hall and held a marvelous reception for his guests. For many of them, it was a reunion of sorts as old comrades in arms came together again for the first time in a year. Dinner was cheerful and full of remembrances, gossip, and goodwill.

"Heath! My god, what did you do to your hair?"

"Sister Serra! Why, I thought you were still in Ostia. Did you come with Lord Hector? How is Sir Oswin?"

"Fiora! Farina! Florina! Ah, such beauty as the three of you bring to this hall, I can hardly bear it!"

"Who knows for sure, but I've heard that they ended up in Ilia, if you can believe it..."

"What? No, Lord Raymond is right over there. W-Wait, come back!"

Once the guests had been sated and the tables cleared, the festivities truly began. Lord Eliwood brought out a band of musicians and jesters for entertainment, and drinks were distributed freely. The music of Pherae was widely renowned for its ability to incite exuberance in a crowd, and in short time the hall was alive with singing, laughing, and dancing. 

Matthew and Guy relaxed at a table and enjoyed watching the party as they quietly settled into their cups.

"I don't think this was such a bad idea after all," Guy said, grinning sidelong at his friend.

"And this is why you should always yield to my greater experience in things," Matthew said, slightly drunkenly. 

Guy leaned forward and cupped his chin in his hand. "Do you think Lord Hector will throw a party like this when he becomes marquess?"

"Of course! And believe me, Lord Hector knows how to throw a party."

"Yeah? What're they like?"

"Like this, but with even more beer."

Guy scoffed. "I think I've had too much already," he admitted, pushing his cup forward and sitting back. "If I drink any more I'm going to have to cut this tunic off tonight." He looked down at his worn shirt in dismay. He may have grown an inch in the past year, but his clothes hadn't, and they were beginning to show it. 

Matthew took a long drink from his own mug. "I say drink and be merry. Let's take advantage of this rare opportunity to celebrate." His eyes drifted over the crowd, picking out familiar faces. He smiled to see so many of them dancing and rejoicing.

"Guy," he said nonchalantly, after a long moment.

"Mmm?"

"Do you know if Lady Priscilla and the Cornwell delegation made it here tonight?"

Guy flushed and looked down. "She's here. I saw her at dinner. Didn't... ah... get a chance to say hello, though." He gave his friend an innocent look.

Matthew chuckled. "You know, I think I'm getting an idea."

"That's never good."

"I have a favor to ask you. Perform it and you can consider your final debt to me cleared."

Guy's eyes widened. "What, really?"

Matthew nodded solemnly. "Really. I swear it to you."

"Then ask away! Anything at all!"

"You're not going to like it," Matthew said, stretching his arms dramatically. "Could even be dangerous."

Guy scowled. "What could be more dangerous than the trials we've seen together? C'mon, you know I can handle it!"

"Alright," the thief said, his eyes twinkling. "I want to see you dance with Miss Priscilla." He grinned and sat back, watching his request sink into Guy's head.

The young swordsman looked puzzled, then all the color drained from his face. "You have got to be kidding me," he eventually managed to squeak out.

"Nope, I'm quite serious. Actually I'm rather set on the idea," Matthew said plainly, propping his feet up on a nearby stool. He took a long pipe from inside his jacket and struck a match on the table. "Go on," he said around a mouthful of pipe smoke. "I don't have all night, you know."

Guy just stared at him. "You really are serious."

"Such a masterful grasp of the obvious. Someday you must tell me how you do it."

"Matthew, she's a _princess_."

"Guess it's up to you to act like a prince, then." He watched his friend thoughtfully, then leaned forward. "Guy, let me give you some advice. As your elder -"

"By how many months?"

"Hush. As your elder of several months, I can tell you that you are not so very different from me, when it comes down to it."

"I'll believe that when... on second thought, I'll never believe that."

Matthew ignored him. "You keep putting off the important things. Maybe it's because you're afraid, maybe it's because you want to stay young. But it doesn't matter why you do it, does it? It has the same result in the end." 

"And what's that?"

He took a long drag from his pipe and let it out slowly, delicate tendrils of smoke curling around their heads. "Eventually, there are no more tomorrows. No more time to put off to." He shook his head, stirring up the milky cloud. "Don't make the same mistake I made," he murmured, his expression serious. 

Guy looked at him in surprise. It was the first time since that night almost a year and a half ago that he heard his friend make mention of Leila. "Matthew..." he said softly.

Matthew shifted his gaze up to Guy's face and smiled. "Don't worry. I've accepted what happened, in my own way. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let it happen to you too." He crossed his arms resolutely. "And besides, you owe me one."

Guy took a deep breath, then nodded. He glanced from his friend up to where Priscilla was sitting, then back to his friend again. "Clear my debt, you say?"

"You could consider yourself a free man."

"And the oathpaper?"

"I'll burn it."

He thought for a full minute. "Well... I suppose that's alright. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm holding you fully responsible."

Matthew grinned and watched Guy square his shoulders and turn to leave. The young man made his way across the crowded hall, weaving between clusters of partygoers. The night was now two or three cups deep and the guests were really beginning to warm up to one another. People danced and sang, cavorted with the musicians, and paid their respects to the guest of honor, who was quietly getting drunk at a long table set on a slightly raised platform at the head of the hall. Priscilla was still sitting off to the side of the dining area, nursing a cup of warm mead and flanked by her older brother and Lucius. Matthew whistled through his teeth.

"First obstacle: the surly and defensive older brother," he narrated bemusedly as he watched Guy approach their table. "That alone could prove to be too much for our young suitor. How will he handle it, I wonder?"

Guy swallowed and mustered every drop of courage he possessed. "Excuse me," he said meekly. Raven turned his gaze away from his sister and let it settle on Guy's face, any trace of mirth long gone. 

"What?" he asked bluntly. Guy tried not to jump.

"Mr. Raven... if you would so kindly do me the honor of... er, that is, Miss Priscilla... it's for the... dancing..."

"Oh no... crash and burn," Matthew said from his vantage point across the hall. He shook his head woefully.

Indeed, all shreds of rational thought had fled from Guy about thirty seconds earlier, leaving him with naught to do but plunge ahead and hope it straightened itself out in the end. "I just couldn't help but notice that... what with the fine night tonight..."

"Guy, are you prop-" Raven started to say, only to be interrupted by Lucius's hand on his arm.

"My lord!" the fair bishop said hastily. "I'm so sorry... to be a bother... but I'm suddenly not feeling well..."

Raven's turned back towards his companion and his expression of annoyance was replaced with one of concern. "Are you alright? Is it one of your fits?" 

Lucius swallowed and nodded. "I think some air might help..." he said meekly.

Raven nodded and stood up. "Here, lean on me. I'll take you out to the yard." Lucius took his arm graciously and as they made their way out of the room, he turned to look over Raven's shoulder and give Guy a conspiratorial wink. Guy just blinked.

"Oho!" Matthew whooped, not missing the covert glance. He ignored the few stares he got and sat back, chuckling under his breath. "So Lucius comes to the rescue. That makes for obstacle the second: the girl." He bit down on his pipe and continued to watch avidly.

"M-Miss Priscilla," Guy stammered, now all the more nervous for actually being alone with her. He forgot that he was standing. He forgot about his whole body below the neck, actually. He just sort of stared at her.

"Guy?" she asked, smiling warmly. Her hair was longer than he remembered it, and half of it was pulled back into a simple braid. Silver-trimmed white ribbons were woven into it, and on either side she had tucked tiny lilac blossoms. "Are you alright?"

Her voice jerked him from his reverie. He shook his head, clenching his eyes shut. "No," he finally said, balling his hands into fists. He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes and looked at her. "I'm not alright. I'm really, really not alright."

Across the room, Matthew held his breath.

"You see," Guy continued, "There's all these things that I've wanted to do. And because of... stupid reasons, I never got around to them." He swallowed. "I'm afraid it's a really terrible thing that I've done."

Priscilla looked up at him, her green eyes bright and curious. "Oh?" she asked. "Like what kinds of things?"

He steeled himself. "Like... talk to you, Miss Priscilla. That's one thing." 

Her eyes fluttered and she caught her breath in her chest. "Would you... like to talk to me now?" she asked carefully.

"No," he confessed. "I'd like to dance with you."

"Honesty," Matthew breathed, dumbstruck. "Quite a gambit." He leaned forward, practically falling off the edge of his chair.

"Oh..." Priscilla said softly, looking down at her lap. She wrung her hands together, then nodded and looked back up at Guy. "I'd like that," she said, with a shy smile.

Matthew actually did fall off the edge of his chair. And if Guy had had a chair, he would have done the same.

But he didn't have a chair, so instead, he took Priscilla's hand.

"The final challenge," Matthew said under his breath, collecting himself and getting up off the ground. "He has the girl. But can he dance?" He stood and watched them with his hands clasped anxiously at his chest.

The answer should have been obvious. Of course Guy could dance. After all, he practically made a living of it.

Matthew, along with many others, watched them sail around the hall together, laughing and dancing as though they had practiced their whole lives for it. Others joined along, following in the wake of their light feet, but none could match them. There were many beautiful things to see in Pherae that day, and their happy waltz may have been in the top five.

Matthew smiled, clapped his hands together, then sat down in his chair and enjoyed the fruits of his last boon. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a worn, greasy piece of parchment that he had been carrying for almost two years. He unfolded it carefully, tracing the deep creases with his fingertips. "Paid in full," he said, and he struck a match on the table. The small yellow flame consumed the oathpaper in a matter of seconds, leaving only one blackened corner and a film of dusty ash on his hands.

Guy took many dances from Priscilla that night, even after her brother returned and spent the rest of the evening glaring threateningly at him from the corner. It was late when they said their goodnights, and he stumbled back to his table exhausted and utterly happy. All he found there, however, was the charred remnants of his oathpaper and a note written in Matthew's handwriting.

_Guy-_

_Thank you._

_Am returning to Ostia, then moving on to Badon port. I want to visit someone._

_-M._

_P.S. You need a haircut, if you catch my drift.  
P.P.S. Make it happen._

It was all the encouragement Guy needed.

~The End~

[Author's note: A big thank you to those of who you reviewed and encouraged me to finish the story. I had a lot of fun writing it. Hope you all had a great holiday!] 


End file.
